


the map on your skin

by loading_username



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Caring Illya Kuryakin, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, Kissing, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of Past Abuse, Napoleon Solo Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Scars, Tenderness, Touching, Trust Issues, a little bit, spies in love, the CIA aren't the nice guys here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 17:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30075582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loading_username/pseuds/loading_username
Summary: Napoleon shares with Illya a few details about his time working for the CIA.
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	the map on your skin

Napoleon hummed softly as he felt a rough and calloused bear paw trace the naked skin on his chest. The touch was soft and gentle, almost tentative in its exploration, and he wondered when exactly that stopped being a surprise. When had he accepted the fact a man that allowed rage consume him so completely he appeared inhuman could also be gentle and kind behind that rough and violet exterior.

Both sides were real and part of what made Illya Illya, of course, and Napoleon couldn't deny the appeal in each one. Right now, though, the caressing touches and the warmth of Illya's body against his were very much appreciated, and effectively lulling a satiated and exhausted Napoleon to sleep.

"You have too many scars, Cowboy."

Ah. So Illya's touch hadn't been random after all.

This was not the first time his scars prompted a comment from the person sharing his bed. People who only say his charming smile and smart suits never expected the mess that hides underneath. Some of them liked it, a small part was repulsed by it, while the rest didn't care one way or another as long as he knew what he was doing. Those who proved curious were easily distracted by his talented mouth and skilled hands.

He could do that now, Napoleon thought detachedly. He could offer Illya a teasing remark and without much effort shift his attention elsewhere. Peril would know, of course, but he would let him get away with it anyway.

The question was whether Napoleon wanted to get away with it or not.

This was the first time Illya commented on the scars even though he had seen and touched them many times before now. Of course, the Russian's body was littered with an even larger number of scars, so that was probably what stopped him before. While it was no mystery where Illya's scars came from, that didn't mean he would have been willing to talk about them if Napoleon asked in return. At least until now. Probably.

"Hmm. Ugly little things, aren't they?" He murmured in reply, eyes still closed.

The Russian didn't respond, but a second later Napoleon let out a sigh as he felt the calloused fingers being replaced by the soft and warm touch of Illya's lips on one of the scars on his side.

"Marks of being terrible spy."

Napoleon chuckled softly. "Not exactly, Peril."

Illya made a questioning noise as one of his hands moved upward, mapping the warm, unperfect skin until his hand came to rest on a small scar that was usually covered by the collar of his shirt, left years ago by an overeager thug holding him at knife point.

"A few of them came from my time in the Army, though surprisingly not as many as one would expect given the fact it was war," He explained dryly, arching his neck as Illya's fingers slid upward, stopping at the pulse point.

"And the rest?"

He hummed again, his eyes closed as he leaned into the touch. "Let's just say my first few missions with the CIA weren't a walk in the park."

"Thief not good enough to be spy."

"That's slander. And mean," Napoleon added, peering up at Illya through his lashes as he poked him in the chest with his index finger.

The Russian huffed softly as he captured Napoleon's hand in his. "What then?"

Napoleon stared down at their joined hands, taking the time to consider his words carefully.

"As you can probably guess, my illustrious career before becoming a spy didn't win me any points with the CIA." Napoleon's lips curled upward when he heard Illya's amused snort. "And even though they had to blackmail me to get me to work for them, they weren't exactly happy to have me there."

"Understandable. It is terrible to work with you."

"What are you talking about? I'm a total delight, Peril," He said with an obnoxious smirk, earning an eye roll from the Russian. Napoleon's blue eyes gleamed softly as he lifted a hand to the other man's cheek, moving to bring his lips to Illya's for a long and lazy kiss.

It was Illya who pulled away first, his sharp eyes taking in every detail of the other man's expression. Napoleon arched an eyebrow, offering him a coy smile.

"CIA tried to kill you," Illya concluded gravely after a long moment of silence.

"What?! No!" Napoleon paused. He blinked once, twice, three times. "Well, at least not directly. They certainly didn't care much whether I got out in one piece as long as I completed my missions."

Illya's blue eyes darkened with fury, his grip on the other man's hand becoming painful.

Napoleon held back a wince, his lips curling into a soft smile instead as he lifted their joined hands to his mouth, his eyes meeting Illya's as he planted soft kisses on bruised knuckles.

It took a few minutes, but he saw the minute changes on Illya's body as he got his rage under control. Napoleon considered changing the subject entirely but dismissed the idea almost immediately. It was better to get it all out now rather than wait for the question to come up again, or worse, have Illya go behind his back to find out more.

"I had my fair share of handlers in the CIA and none of them liked me one bit. Hell, Sanders hates me even now that I'm no longer under his direct command," Napoleon added with a wry smirk. His few meetings with Sanders since joining U.N.C.L.E. had been interesting, to say the less. The man truly was a delight. "The agents that were assigned to work with me weren't any better either- not that I blame them. It must have been awful to be told they needed a thief to do their work for them, after all." He flashed him a smug little smirk.

"Of course," Illya muttered dryly.

"I never did belong in the CIA, and they made damn sure I didn't forget it. Of course, they simply ignored the fact I was never interested in being a part of their little group anyway," Napoleon added with an exasperated sigh.

It was something Napoleon had never talked about- not that he even had anyone to freely talk to once the CIA put a leash on him. There was, of course, also the fact pretty much every person he had any contact with were acquaintances and business contacts, so definitely not the kind of people he would have bothered to mentioned any of that even if he could.

This was the first time in years that Napoleon felt he could trust someone. Maybe not completely- he didn't think he was capable of that kind of trust anymore, but perhaps he could trust Illya and Gabby as much as he had ever trusted anyone else in his life.

It was a terrifying but exhilarant new concept and, against Napoleon's better judgment, he was willing to take the risk. Take a leap of faith.

He stared at the man at his side and not for the first time refused to let himself consider what would happen once their respective agencies decided to recall them. When the CIA and the KGB got tired of playing politics and took them back to America and Russia. Back to being rivals.

It didn't bear thinking about. Not now. There would be plenty of time for that later.

"I think those first missions may have been punishment. You know, a way to show me how bad things happened to people who break the law and all that," He mused out loud. "Of course, it didn't take them long to realize my invaluable skills were being wasted and that I was more useful to them alive and in good condition to be able to carry out my assignments. Things got a little easier after that."

The CIA and its people didn't miraculously begin to treat him like a human being, of course, but it was an improvement nevertheless. The fact he quickly became their best assent was a double edged sword.

"Is it better now?" Illya asked after a moment, one of his large hands covering the small cigarette burns on Napoleon's forearm.

"What?"

"Here. With U.N.C.L.E."

Napoleon opened his mouth to answer but closed it without a word. It would be easy to tell Illya it was better and leave it at that. It wouldn't even be a lie. But he deserved more.

"I suppose it is. I'm still on a leash and that's not something I can forget, but it is a larger and nicer leash, at least, and it comes with a side of Waverly's excellent taste in whisky, so I guess it's alright." He finished with a shrug. "Of course, having a pair of damn good agents as my partners is a great improvement as well."

"Good." The fierceness in that simple word made Napoleon's heart skip a beat. In that second, he had no doubt that if his answer had been different, Illya would have been ready to do whatever it took to change thing. It was that certainty that prompted Napoleon to ask his own question.

"What about you?" He asked, head tilted to meet the Russian's gaze. "Is U.N.C.L.E. better than the KGB?"

"It is different."

"Of course," Napoleon said dryly. He smiled in response to the glare the other man sent his way. "Now, is that a good different or a bad different?"

There was no answer for a long moment, but Illya's eyes never left his.

"Good."

Napoleon was left staring at the Russian for a breathless moment. He wasn't surprised by that answer, of course. If U.N.C.L.E. was miles better than the CIA, of course it had to be much, much better than the KGB. What gave him pause was everything he was able to read in Illya's eyes in the dim light of the room. Everything Illya couldn't say with words.

It wasn't only U.N.C.L.E. Illya was referring to. It was Gaby, and Walvery, and Napoleon. It was this- this thing between them neither dared to name.

"That's- that's good," Napoleon croaked. He averted his gaze with burning cheeks as he cleared his throat.

"Go to sleep, Cowboy," Illya murmured, a small touch of affection coloring his words.

Napoleon was about to remind Illya it had been him who started the conversation just as he had been about to fall asleep, but he simply closed his mouth without saying any of that.

"You too, Peril," He murmured, planting a gentle kiss on Illya's lips before settling back down on the bed.

Illya didn't reply but his hands stayed on Napoleon's naked skin, their bodies close together.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after I first watched the movie a couple of years after it came out, but for some reason never got around to posting it. I recently found it when I was sorting through my documents, so I polished it up a bit and decided to share it here. If you enjoyed it please let me know! 
> 
> This is unbetaed and I'm not a native speaker, so please feel free to point out any mistake you may find.


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